Donna Getting Married
by Spectering
Summary: Sequel to Aftermath. Donna learns that getting married to the man she's been in love with for most of her adult life isn't as easy as she expected it to be.
1. The Engagement Party

_Here is the sequel to Aftermath. If you haven't read that, you can. But you don't necessarily have to. It isn't detrimental to the story. But this will make some references to some things that happened in Aftermath. I know when this takes place, but I'm not yet revealing it because it will be revealed in the text with more certainty. Anyway, enjoy and please leave a comment._

* * *

Donna Paulsen, soon to be Specter at an undecided date thus far, cannot decide which dress to wear. And the engagement party is in less than an hour. She has the white dress hanging on the left closet door, and the maroon dress hangs on the right closet door. The white dress does have a pop of color at the edges, but the statement isn't as loud as the maroon one. She's had a few hours to decide and yet, here she is, still struggling with a decision.

She hears her fiancé clamber against something in the living room and his grumbling promptly proceeds. She hears him shuffle down the hallway, entering the bedroom a few moments later. His hair is a little longer than normal, the ends beginning to fade into a dark brown with the close of summer. His suit is gray, tie black, and he's ready for the occasion.

When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks with his eyes fixated on her. He sighs, gaze trailing over her frame from her head to her toes and back up again. She watches his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

He says, "You're still not ready."

"I can't decide between the white Burbury or the maroon Wu," she hums.

He picks his jaw up off of the floor and shifts his gaze to the options hanging on the door. She watches his feet as he slides them across the wood floor, angling them towards the closet, and steps back until he drops onto the bed beside her. She feels his hands on her, pads of his fingers etching into her back as one of his fingers scratches up her spine and his other hand trails around to her stomach. He moves her hair to her shoulder furthest away from him and she feels his warm breath inch closer to her bare shoulder. She should have put something more than her under garments on before he made it to the bedroom. Now they're really going to be late.

His soft lips press into her skin just beside her bra strap. She sighs deeply. The attention feels good, especially since they've had a fairly difficult work week. He mumbles, "The white one."

"We're going to be late," she replies.

He lifts his head, the places his mouth has been now cold without his warmth. His right hand moves back down her spine. A shiver skates through her. He says, "No one will notice."

He resumes his lips to her neck, teeth lightly nipping at the skin. She chuckles softly. She covers the hand on her stomach with her right hand and pushes it up his arm. She says, "We're the guests of honor. Everyone will notice."

She gives in despite herself, turning her body to face him. She throws her leg over him, her knees pressing against either side of his thighs. She feels his hands cup her ass as she lowers herself onto his lap, leaning forward to press a kiss against his mouth. She feels his erection stiffen against her thigh and a groan falls out of his mouth.

"I changed my mind," he says, "You should wear something unattractive."

"Why do you do this to me?" She baits. She pushes her long fingers against his jaw, her manicured nails absently scratching at the skin just below his ears. "You should have stopped wanting to fuck me by now."

"I'll never stop wanting to fuck you," he says. He grins there. She feels his index finger slip beneath the connectors of her bra. She lightly shakes her head. He adds, "We'll only be five, maybe ten minutes late."

"Ray is already downstairs," she reminds him. His fingers etch between her shoulder blades. She swallows a massive gulp, grinding her hips down. She says, "We have to get a move on."

"You're the one who isn't ready yet," he replies with a certain cheekiness to him. She feels his hands fall down her back like rain. His fingers hook beneath the hem of her panties and he tugs them downward. "We can make them wait."

"Harvey," she hums.

She pushes her tongue into her lip, really considering what he's suggesting. But she knows that if they wait, they'll both enjoy it more. Especially after all of the excitement and celebration in their honor. She pushes her hands along the contours of his face, tips of her nails scratching in the hair at the back of his head.

"You're already undressed," he argues. She feels his fingers dig into the small of her back. The world as she sees it rapidly changes, his weight shifting on top of her as he digs his hips into her thighs. She instinctively wraps her legs around his waist. He gives her a smug grin and says, "And I want you."

"Okay, five minutes," she says, "We are leaving in five minutes."

* * *

She takes his proffered hand to help her out of Ray's Lexus. His hand is warm, but the air outside is colder than she had expected. They are late - later than the 5 minutes she had aforementioned. After they'd had sex, it took 10 more minutes to get ready (again), and they got stuck in traffic for 10 minutes. Harvey spent their car ride profusely apologizing for making them so late. She had reassured him with a kiss that it was fine.

When she steps out of the vehicle, she shivers. The October air is cold. She should have brought a jacket. Harvey quirks an eyebrow as he looks at her. He pulls her into him as she steps forward, him stepping back, and closes the car door. His body is warm. She already knows she's going home wearing his jacket.

She steps towards the building housing The Skylark, a magnificent venue that practically jumped at the chance to host the engagement party. Their upcoming union is going viral across the city and completely changing their lives. She has meetings and interviews all in preparation of their wedding. Which hasn't even been definitively decided despite the pressure being put on her to make one from nearly everyone. Even Harvey.

Entering the building gives her a smidgen of warmth, but it doesn't really stick until Harvey catches up to her. He's only been a step behind her, clasping her hand. He presses the button for the elevator. She feels him tug her into his side, and he guides her hand around his back. He lets go of her hand and moves his palm across her shoulders.

"I bet my mother is drunk," she says.

"We're not that late," he says. His reassurance falls on deaf ears, but she appreciates the effort. They are too late for an event that is all about them. "We're just five or ten minutes late."

She laughs just as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. She steps out of his embrace, her fingers trickling along the hem of his suit jacket. She hears him step into the elevator behind her as she presses the button for the 30th floor.

"When we get in there," she starts, the car moving upwards, "Can you not look like you just had sex?"

He smirks. He says, "I don't have that look."

"You're making that look right now," she replies. She can't help the smile that spreads across her face to match his. She reaches for his hand and threads their fingers together. She leans towards him and lightly presses a kiss against his cheek. "You're lucky I love you."

"Hm," he hums in response, like he's thinking about it, "That's true."

The elevator pulls to a stop. The doors open at a glacial pace, slowly revealing the venue and the abundance amount of people gathered on their behalf. Including all 4 of her siblings who have barely warmed up to her fiancé even though he's been nothing but loving and supportive over the past few months.

"Don't forget to smile," she reminds him.

She knows that he has been dreading this event all week. Their engagement party turned into a production as the news of their engagement began to gain traction over the last few months. The spectacle became a massive pr scheme for the firm and a little bit for her.

She's been scheduled to do interviews regarding their upcoming nuptials, as well as using this to impress potential clients. It's a win-win, she thinks. She just wants to be married to him anyway.

"Of course," he replies with a smirk.

She shakes her head in response as she advances out of the elevator. She feels his hand at the small of her back, encouraging her to lead him into the room of their family, friends, and clients. She spots Mike and Rachel first, tanned and freshly arrived from their honeymoon in Hawaii. Courtesy of her future husband.

Mike and Rachel both smile brightly and widely open their arms to throw around them. The whole room seems to follow, breaking out into a celebration of sorts for their arrival. She is whisked away into the crowd of people and loses him completely. Even when she glances behind her, he isn't a familiar face that she sees.

The flow of people eventually makes their way to the bar for a drink. She feels like she hasn't seen her partner in crime for a good while. Just as she's thinking this, he turns up with two drinks in hand. He offers her the pretty one. Her hands circle the glass carefully, and she feels his chest touch her shoulder as his lips touch her cheek.

"Thank you, honey," she murmurs.

"You're welcome," he whispers in her ear. She takes a sip from her colorful drink and is pleasantly surprised in his choice. She feels his hand slide around her back and his fingers dig into her hip. He leans towards her and says, "Don't leave me again. We're in this together, remember?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she reassures him.

In just a few short minutes, the staff informs the room that they will begin serving the meal soon. The group of people departs and heads to their assigned seats. She feels a pang of sadness to have her friends so far away. Her mother is directly beside her, on the opposite side of Harvey, and the rest of her family trickles down from there. Mike, Rachel and Louis are on the other side of Harvey's mother, Bobby, Marcus and Kim. She gives Rachel a pout when they lock eyes across the table.

As everyone gets settled into their seats, she feels the atmosphere of the room shift. Harvey's hand covers her left hand, fingers now a well-trained spread around her beautiful engagement ring. She looks over at him just in time to see him perch the stem of his champagne glass between his fingers. She watches him stand, warm fingers leaving the back of her hand to hold his tie to his chest. He looks at her, offers her a small smile, and quickly scans the room.

"Excuse me," he says loudly, interrupting the quiet conversations around the room, "Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

She looks at him with a sharpened gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He waits for the room to die down, the attention shifting to him. She quickly looks around at all of the faces closest to them, wondering if anyone else knows what's going on.

"I know it's usually customary for the father of the bride to give the toast at these occasions," he starts. She feels his fingers on her shoulder, tap against her skin as he steps a little closer to her. His fingers push into her hair, but only a little, and he holds his glass at chest level. "But I really just wanted to thank everyone for joining us for this long awaited evening. Most of you know that this has been a long time coming. In fact, almost everyone knew this was going to happen, except for us. So, tonight, I wanted this to be about the beautiful woman who has been beside me for as long as I can remember, the woman who agreed to spend the rest of her life doing just that. Join me in a toast to my fiancée, who truly deserves way better than me."

She watches him with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes at his words. The air catches in her throat as he lifts his glass in the toasting motion. She shakes her head, ignoring the glass in front of her, and pushes the chair back. She stands, fingers wrapping around his tie, and pulls him to her. He grins widely, her lips coming into contact with his teeth before he closes his mouth around hers.

"Thank you," she whispers. She kisses the corner of his mouth again. She feels his hand circle around her waist, fingers digging into her waistline.

"I love you," he replies. She slides her left hand around to his back and reaches for her own glass with her right. She angles her body towards his and lifts her glass. He clinks them together and they both immediately take swigs of the off white colored liquid. Once he's swallowed the champagne, he says, "Now, let's celebrate you."

"I like the sound of that," she mutters in response. They stand like that for just a few moments longer, almost entirely forgetting that all eyes in the room are looking at them.

* * *

She watches the room interact. She knows this is going to be the beginning of a long couple of months, that this is maybe the only time they can actually get a moment to breathe without talking about the wedding. She wants to be married to him more than anything, but the entire event is becoming more than she had expected.

Of course she wants a big wedding. She's only been imagining the big day for 39 years now. But, compared to the marriage, they've hardly discussed the wedding. Especially since the moment they got back from the Bahamas after he proposed he was pushed into the role of managing partner. Up until the last few weeks, when they were expecting Jessica's return to the firm, they have barely thought about anything other than the office.

Hell, he's barely moved in. His boxes are still mostly packed and scattered throughout her apartment. They haven't looked at a single place for them to move into, let alone have they discussed what they're really looking for.

Just as she feels a panic rise within her while thinking of the upcoming months, she feels a light amount of pressure against her back. She nearly jumps out of her skin, the unexpected touch startling her. She turns her head and looks at the culprit, relieved to see her tipsy yet ravishing fiancé. He grins and sets his glass down on the table nearest to them. She instantly feels relieved, forgetting about the overwhelming nature of the intense wedding planning.

"I didn't think I would say this," he whispers into her ear, "But your family is more fucked up than mine."

She gives him a pointed look. He easily slips his hands onto her hips and pulls her into his chest. Her arms go up around his neck as if on autopilot. She says, "Your family too."

"Not yet," he says with a smirk, "But I suppose you're worth it."

"You can't break up with me at our engagement party," she says, eyebrows popped up on her forehead. She watches his fast contort, his mouth twitching. He grunts in the back of his throat and pushes his hands more fully around her. "What? I told you, they run people off."

She pushes herself onto the tips of her Jimmy Choos, closing the space between them. His grin slowly fades, completely stilling her movements. He groans, "Oh god."

"What?" She mutters. She hears a very annoyed tone fall from her mouth. He seemingly cowers, hiding behind her.

"Did you invite Scottie?" He whispers, accusatory.

"She's your friend," she replies. He huffs, audibly. She pulls her hands to his face and cups it. She encourages his gaze to shift back to her. He finally looks at her, his demeanor softening. She repeats, "She's your friend."

"I just wanted tonight to be about you," he admits, "I didn't want anything to ruin it."

"Oh, Scottie isn't ruining my night," she says with a wink, "I'm going home with the guy."

"That you are," he says, "Marry me?"

"Hm," she hums. She doesn't directly answer him.

"You two are disgustingly cute," says a very familiar voice.

She turns her gaze towards the voice and Harvey nearly drops her the moment she sees her it is. Jessica is back from Paris despite the fact she'd told them her flight was delayed a few days. She feels her fiancé's hands leave her body and she sees him scoop Jessica into a hug.

"Jessica," he says, excited, "I thought you weren't going to make it."

Harvey releases his mentor and returns a hand to the small of Donna's back. He ushers her forward to give Jessica a warm hug. She slips her arms around the older woman's neck and gives her a quick hug.

"I wanted the element of surprise," she replies cheekily. Jessica pulls back and offers Donna the present in her hands. Harvey reaches out and gently touches Jessica's elbow, a movement that takes her by surprise. He's softened since she left. "I wouldn't miss this for anything. My boy is all grown up."

"Thank you so much, Jessica," she says.

"Yes," he agrees, "That really means a lot. Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?"

"Just direct me to the bar," she replies, "You two mingle with your guests."

She watches Harvey lift his hand and point in the direction of the bar. He quickly shifts his attention back to her. He falters before saying, "Quick. Kiss me."

"What?" She asks, taken aback by his spontaneous request.

"Scottie's looking over here with those demon eyes," he replies.

"It's our engagement party," she says evenly, "I think she knows you're taken."

"Maybe I just want you to kiss me," he says. She watches him drop his hands into his pockets and stares at her challengingly. She sighs and shakes her head.

"She's your friend," she reminds him. She lifts her hands and presses them against his chest. She pushes herself on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. She says, "Just relax and have a good time. I love you."

She feels him shift beneath her touch. When she lowers herself back to the ground he is standing with his shoulders thrown back, chest pushed out triumphantly. It will never be lost on her how proud he is that she is in love with him. And she would do anything for him.


	2. The Date

She fills a glass up with water and heads back to the bedroom. The house is freezing in the early November air, especially with it still being early and the sun not yet having an opportunity to warm the small living space. She sees him there, wrapped up in the blankets, looking adorable even though he's laying in the middle of the bed. He always calls her a bed hog but he has that tendency too; at least now anyway.

She sets the glass down on the nightstand next to the bottle of ibuprofen. She quickly turns and shuts the bedroom door, blocking the sunlight from entering the room and making the bedroom pitch black. Harvey has learned to sleep later with the darker room, especially on the weekends.

She reaches out and settles her hand on the edge of the bed to get a feel for where it's at. She hears the bed creak slightly and feels his warm fingers secure around her wrist. He tugs her towards the bed, her eyes slowly adjusting to the room.

"Hey, baby," he mutters tiredly. She falls onto him, her hands against his chest. She feels him wrap the sheet around her, his arms quickly following.

"I brought you some water and ibuprofen," she says. He drank more than she did last night. When Scottie had started talking to him, his drink intake only increased. He, however, managed to only become a slight bit more clingy with her instead of the normal very clingy.

"I feel fine," he insists. She feels one of his hands slip beneath the hem of the sweater currently wrapped around her. He pushes his knee between her thighs. He says, "Except for this little inconvenience."

He moves his hips, intentionally rubbing his erection against her leg. He positions himself more heavily against her. Her leg instinctively hooks around the back of his knee, holding him as close to her as possible.

"We had sex three times last night," she says, a playful annoyance seeping through her tone. She can see him grin in the tiny slivers of the sunlight peeking in through the blinds. She quirks an eyebrow to challenge him. She says, "Haven't you had enough yet?"

"If I ever look at you and don't want to have sex with you, you should start to worry that an alien has taken over my body," he says, "It would be the most obvious start to a science fiction movie. Wanting to have sex with you has never been the problem."

"We've made up for all that time we weren't having sex with all of the times we've had sex, don't you think?" She suggests.

"Ella Fitzgerald singing the George and Ira Gershwin songbook a hundred times wouldn't be enough to supplement us not having sex since the first time we had sex," he counters.

It's a weird comparison, so she shakes her head at just how weird he is. She moves her hand to his shoulders, palms flattening against his skin. He sweeps his thumb over her stomach just below her belly button. It prompts her to move her hand down the expanse of his back.

"It's a shame that no one else knows how weird you are," she says.

"That's because you're the only one I'm myself with," he replies. She feels his fingers trickle around to her hip as he pulls her hips closer to his. She watches his mouth split into a contagious grin. He says, "You looked hot last night. Well, you always look hot, but I can hardly keep my eyes off of you when you wear white."

"Who knows," she starts, "Maybe you'll cry when you see me in my wedding dress."

"Maybe I'll cry when I take it off," he says.

"Maybe we shouldn't have sex again until the wedding," she says.

His face falters, the smug look completely leaving it. He jerks his hips forward, digging his pelvis and thighs and knees into her thighs. She hisses in response, the thin material of his boxers and her underwear not quite enough to keep her from feeling the tip of his erection. And just knowing that she turns him on so easily is enough to get her going at times.

"You don't mean that," he replies decidedly; his certainty fades away just as quickly, "Donna, please."

"I do love it when you beg," she muses. She pulls a hand between them to caress his cheek. She squeezes his face softly and guides his face forward, placing a gentle kiss against his lips. She whispers, "But I like sex with you too much to wait until our wedding night to do it again."

He grins in response. She releases her grasp on his face to push her hand down the length of him. Her fingers run over his torso, sticking to his stomach. She feels his lips touch hers again, kissing her deeply. His tongue asks permission to enter her mouth, sliding over the edges of her slightly swollen lips.

She opens her mouth to him, granting him access. She immediately feels tongue dart out against hers. His teeth quickly follow as he takes her bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle bite. An unexpected moan tumbles out of her mouth and vibrates on his teeth. She feels him shift his weight onto her as he settles between her thighs. Her back presses more fully into the mattress, his fingertips brushing across her ribcage as he moves his hand up her torso. He sweeps his thumb across the skin just below her breast. She feels goosebumps litter her skin.

She wonders how he can do that when he touches her, how he knows all of the places that really gets to her. Things with him are drastically different than have been with other men. She has dated other men longer than she's been engaged to him, longer than she's lived with him. But he is the first man she's ever lived with, the first one she'd ever planned to marry. It didn't take any time at all for her to know that she would be happy to spend her life with him. She'd spent years imagining what a life with him would be like. She couldn't even count how many times she had been picturing life milestones with him instead of the man she was supposed to be dating.

In retrospect, she never could have been married to someone else.

* * *

She's making a list for groceries in the kitchen when she hears him trip over a box for the umpteenth time in the living room. He grumbles loudly. The grocery list is a long shot that will probably get lost in her purse, if she's being honest with herself.

"I'm tired of tripping over these boxes," he says, entering the kitchen.

"Call Frederik and tell him to pull some real estate listings," she replies. She finally looks up at him. He has furrowed eyebrows and an annoyed look on his face at the prospect of him having to call the real estate agent who has been trying to get his hands on Harvey's condo for years. She says, "I'm sorry, honey. I just have a full calendar this week. And, really, I could happily just live here with you."

"That's because all of your things already fit," he says. He comes up behind her, pressing his best against her back. He wraps his arms around her middle. He leans down just a little and places his chin on her shoulder. He turns his head slightly to kiss her jaw. "Are you ready to go?"

"We can be late," she says. After all, they were late to their own engagement party, they can be late to this.

"Do you not want to go?" He asks, leaning back and putting some space between them.

She sets her pen down on the counter and turns around in his arms. She lifts her palms to his shoulders and looks up at her. She doesn't really care about where they're going, but she loves him. None of her exes could get her to one of these.

"The Brooklyn Nets? Really? You hate Brooklyn," she answers.

"I don't hate Brooklyn," he replies, furrowed eyebrows, "I like Brooklyn. Plus, I got a great deal on courtside seats this season."

"Don't forget that we have a wedding to pay for," she reminds him. She turns away from him and grabs the grocery list. Shoving it into her pricey purse, she zips the accessory up and turns back to him. She adds, "But, because I love you, I will go to all of the sports ball games you want."

"First of all," he starts, "Stop pretending that you don't enjoy basketball. You know all of their names."

She tilts her head slightly in surprise. He smirks at her then, that boyish charm latching on to his features. She does know a lot about basketball. Growing up with brothers she knew she had to learn sports to impress men. That, and it's important for Harvey's clientele that she knows enough stats to give him the one up.

"I only know the names of the cute ones," she finally says.

He shakes his head and lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He leans forward and kisses her softly. He's the affectionate man she always knew he could be. He's grinning when he pulls back. It makes her feel weak at her knees.

"If you must know," she says dramatically, "I do that for you. It really softens those guys up for you."

"They're all in love with you," he says with certainty. He pulls his hands to his chest. She steps in front of him, walking in the direction of the dining room. He's a few steps behind her. She hears him add, "And you're going to distract the players dressed like that."

* * *

The crowd roars to life as one of the players on the court shoots the ball and it swishes in the hoop in tune with the buzzer. She releases a sigh at the realization that it only signals the end of the first quarter and the Nets are down by 11 points. Not that she cares about this basketball game all that much. It doesn't even count because it's a pre-season game.

She reaches for her purse between their seats. Her elbow accidentally hits his thigh, making him turn his attention to her. She feels his hand on her back as she begins digging through her purse for her phone. She finally finds the device and sits back up. She looks over at him and he has a scowl on his face.

"I'm going to get another beer," he informs her, "Want anything?"

"Just some of your beer," she replies with a shrug. He rolls his eyes quickly. He follows his eye roll with a very particular look that tells her everything he needs to know. She says, "Don't give me that look. You've been sharing your drink with me for years."

"You're bored," he says, voice flat. She shakes her head in disagreement. She places her phone screen down in her lap. "I'm honestly surprised you lasted this long."

"Honey, I love you. I'm here," she says, a little bit impatient as she pushes her hair out of her face, "But if you don't back off, you're going to regret it."

He throws his hands up at chest level, proclaiming his innocence. She watches as his eyebrows pop up on his forehead. They've spent the majority of their romantic relationship living together, becoming a thousand times closer than she could ever imagine. The small space has forced them to sometimes bicker about the tiniest things, but with the upcoming months, they will begin to spend more time apart. She is, secretly, a bit more on edge about that than she's letting on.

"Okay," he says slowly, with resignation, "I didn't mean...nevermind. I'm just going to go get that drink."

"Hey," she says, reaching out and catching his wrist, "I'm sorry. I'm just having a hard time with adjusting to all of the changes coming up."

"It's okay, babe," he says. She watches as he swallows like he's trying to contain his emotions. He's tried hard with her. He's more patient with her than he is with anyone. If anything, she's the one who has become more impatient. "We'll figure it out."

She smiles gently and gives him a firm nod. She feels his arm move beneath her touch, fingers quickly sliding into hers. Their fingers entwine together, and he doesn't bother trying to get up to go get that beer. She notices how he's become more supportive, sure of their relationship, more sure of himself since being with her.

"Is it me?" He asks.

"No," she says quickly, "You've been so wonderful and so understanding."

"Then what is it?" He asks.

The buzzer sounds throughout the arena signaling the start of the next quarter. She leans towards him, pushing her shoulder against his. She sighs, angling her body to face him. She settles her other hand on his knee.

She says, "I'm just scared. We've spent so much time together throughout the years, even more over these last six months, and now we will be spending less time together. I'm just used to you being there at any given moment."

"It's just a few days a week," he replies softly. He's handling her not being at work as much a hell of a lot better than she is. It's always been the plan that after Mike and Rachel got married, they would begin to pursue a wedding more aggressively. She hadn't expected that there would be so much more to it than just planning a wedding. He smiles and says, "Plus, I finally figured out how to use that thing that lets me talk to you whenever I want."

"It's just a few days a week until it isn't anymore," she points out. She hears herself. She sounds sad.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she admits. He smiles and she feels him rub his thumb over her knuckle. She shivers beneath his touch, a sigh falling out of her mouth. She says, "I just have been working with preparing a new part-time assistant for you. And I've been setting up all of these meetings. We haven't even set a wedding date yet and I'm already swarmed with questions about it."

"I'm ready to marry you at any time," he replies.

"I know," she replies solemnly. The wood court comes to life before them, causing the room to go from quiet whispers to booming voices. She has to talk louder for him to hear her. She says, "There's just a lot that goes into wedding planning. Your wedding is a very big deal."

"Our wedding," he corrects.

She gives him a small smile. He releases her hand and throws an arm across the back of the chair behind her. She feels his hand on her opposite shoulder and he very quickly pulls her into his side. She settles there, her hand resting on his knee.

After a few seconds, something happens on the court. She knows exactly what but she's going to play dumb (it was a foul that was obviously a foul that went uncalled, not in Brooklyn's favor). Harvey shoots to his feet. He turns to look back at her over his shoulder.

"You want to come with me to get that beer?" He asks.

"Sure," she replies.

She immediately reaches for her purse and discards her phone into it. He gestures for her to go ahead of him. She has to go to the bathroom anyway. Luckily, they are on the end and can easily slip out without disturbing the entire row. She steps out ahead of him but almost immediately feels his hand on her back. They climb the steps and head towards the concession area.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom," she says, pulling her thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

He nods in response. She turns on her heel and heads towards the bathroom. She knows he's following her, that he will politely wait outside of the door for her. She has learned that he is a gentleman, that he is kind and thoughtful. All things that she always knew about him. However, she also knew that he held himself back so he didn't get hurt. She feels lucky that he lets himself be free with her.

She reapplies her lipstick after she's washed her hands. She double checks herself in the mirror and thinks that perhaps Harvey was right. Maybe she did severely over do her wardrobe. The silk jumpsuit really isn't basketball game attire, but she doesn't really think she has anything extremely casual aside from a few sundresses. It's really too cold for those.

When she exits the bathroom, she spots her handsome fiancé leaning against the wall. He is also slightly over dressed compared to most other visitors. He's only wearing khaki pants and a blue cashmere sweater with a light jacket, but he is still overdressed in comparison to others. He has his phone in his hand and he's staring at the screen. She shakes her head at this development, sneaking up to him and snaking her arms around his waist.

She hears his phone lock. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. He places a hand on her forearm, spreading his fingers apart and squeezing her arm. She's going to miss being able to sneak away to hug him or kiss him whenever she wants. She thinks she loves him more than he loves her because he seems okay with this transition.

He turns in her arms, lips immediately landing on hers. It takes her by surprise. She stiffens briefly, caught off guard. It takes her a moment to realize his lips are on hers. Just as she perks up and responds, his lips are leaving hers again. She can't help the pout that pulls at her bottom lip.

He laughs softly in the back of his throat. He says, "What's that for?"

"You just caught me off guard," she replies. He smiles then. She realizes that she just reapplied her lipstick in the bathroom. She pulls back from him a little. She says, "Does my lipstick still look okay?"

"Perfect," he mutters, eyes trailing to her mouth. She leans forward to give him a chaste kiss, this time being more prepared. She releases her hold on him. He slips his fingers behind her belt, catching her from moving too far. He says, "I thought you were concerned about your lipstick."

"Not that concerned," she counters with a small smile.

She watches his smile widen a bit more as he steps forward when she does. They walk towards the place where they can get a beer. They stand in line behind a few people, his hands seeking his pockets out. She reaches for her phone in her purse and starts skimming through the messages. There's a text from Rachel, one from one of her sisters, and one from the woman she's supposed to meet with on Monday morning to begin wedding planning. She smiles at her text from Rachel, which says something about how great the engagement party was.

The line moves along rather quickly given that the concession isn't particularly busy while the game is going. Harvey orders a beer and one of those disgusting hot dogs she's been trying so hard over the last 6 months to get him to stop eating. She rolls her eyes in response, but he doesn't turn to look at her. She knows that he knows she isn't pleased. She will, however, give him a pass for the evening.

She picks up the beer from the counter to take a sip from is as he takes his hot dog. He makes his way to the condiments counter. She trails behind slowly, the cup in her grasp. She waits a few feet away while he fixes his food the way he wants it.

"I saw you here by yourself and just knew that I had to come say something," a voice greets. She lifts his gaze from the beer in her hand to see a man standing before her. He's about her height. She furrows her eyebrows, confused by his greeting. She opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off before he can. He says, "Are you here alone?"

"No," she replies, lifting her left hand and flashing him her ring, "I'm here with my fiancé. And before you ask, yes, I am one hundred percent certain that I want to marry him."

The few times she has been approached by men since being engaged, they have always asked her if she was sure about being with him. And she is. She has never been more sure about being with anyone in her life. She loves him with everything inside of her.

She leans to her side to get a clearer view of Harvey. She gives him a smile as he turns to see a guy standing in front of her. She watches his jaw tighten. He makes his way over to her. He touches her elbow with his fingertips.

He says, "Everything okay here?"

"Better now," she mutters. She takes a step away from the man. Harvey follows her movement, letting her wrap her hand around his arm as they make their way back to the court.

"Does that happen a lot?" He asks.

"Don't worry about them," she replies, "I just show them this flashy ring and they usually take a hike."

He smirks like he was just awarded a trophy.

* * *

She saddles up closer to his side to shield her from the cold. She wraps both hands around his arms, subsequently pulling his upper arm against her breasts. She pushes her fingers over his forearm, nails lightly dragging over his skin, and slips her fingers between his. Threading their fingers together, she feels him push the webs of his fingers against hers.

He shifts his gaze to her as they approach a corner several blocks away from the arena, figuring they could avoid a little traffic by walking a bit. They left before the end of the game anyway because the Nets were losing. Her heels are pinching her feet, but she's long used to that.

"So," he says, "Lets pick a date."

"Now?" She asks, slightly taken aback by the sudden desire.

"Sure," he says, "Why not now?"

She doesn't really have an answer for why not now. Now is as good a time as any. She reaches into her purse for her phone with the hand not holding his as he hails a cab. She unlocks the device and looks for the calendar app.

A cab pulls up to the carb beside them. He pulls the door open and gestures for her to get in before him. She doesn't let him let go of her hand as she does. She scoots to the middle seat of the cab, pulling him into the backseat as she does. He closes the door and tells the driver their address. She notes that it's almost Halloween. Which kicks of the holiday season.

"I need at least 4 months to plan this wedding, but even then it's going to be tough," she tells him.

"Okay," he acknowledges, "So pick any Saturday in March and that's when we will get married."

"March tenth?" She asks.

"Now you have a date," he says with a smile. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. She locks her phone, shoves it back into her purse, and looks at him. He says, "I'm going to miss seeing you every second, but I love you. I know we'll be okay."

"Thanks, baby," she replies. She leans towards him and lightly places a kiss against his lips.


	3. The Wedding Planner Part 1

She sees his reflection in the mirror as he moves behind her, his hand pressing at the small of her back. They both have early meetings on opposite sides of town. It's their first official day of being apart, of adjusting to their new normal, and he hasn't said anything since they were heading home from that dumb basketball game a few days ago.

Neither of them have gotten dressed yet. His reflection shows that he only has his boxers on, hair still wet, not yet dressed for the day. She hasn't much progressed in putting on clothes yet either. She has been applying her makeup and fixing her hair before having him zip her dress up.

She feels his hand smooth up her back and round her shoulder. She puts her makeup down on the counter, practically done applying it anyway, and lets her eyes close as his fingers brush over her cheekbone. She should stop him, warm him that he's going to mess up her makeup, but she can't.

She turns to face him, leaning forward to place her lips on his. She pulls back quickly, her back hitting the counter. He follows her movement, kissing her harder, pinning her against the counter. Once she realizes she can't breathe, she pushes her hands against his chest and puts some space between them.

"Wait," she mutters, "We can't get carried away."

He pouts. She shakes her head at him. His hands press harder against the small of her back as he pulls her as close to him as possible.

"I don't get to see you all day," he says.

"That's not fair," she immediately replies, "You knew I had to meet with people about our wedding today."

"I know," he hums, "But I'm going to miss getting to kiss you any time I want."

She lifts her hands to the back of his neck and kisses him again. She can't deny him when he's really laying the being sweet on thick. She feels tears gather in her eyes and one manages to slip over the brim of her eye to slide down her cheek. She doesn't know why she's so upset about not working with him for one day when she's going to spend the rest of her life with him.

"Hey," he mutters softly, "No, don't cry. I'm going to come home to you and tell you about everything that happened today. It'll be just like you were there."

"You better," she says. He pulls her into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her. She feels a bit reassured. He's always reassuring her these days.

* * *

She meets with two wedding planners before noon. One woman rambled on for two hours about her vision of the wedding for the great Harvey Specter like she wasn't the bride. She isn't even sure that she had been asked any question about what she wanted her wedding to be like. The second woman wasn't much different. She keeps telling Harvey in jest that his wedding is a big deal, but that's almost all that either of those wedding planners had focused on.

She checks her phone to see that it's right around lunch time. She decides to head to a bistro not too far from the firm. She orders a sandwich and a salad to go and browses her phone while she waits.

Her fiancé hasn't called or texted her since during her first appointment. Her family has been a bit overbearing since her engagement party. They don't typically talk or interact every day but she has received a text or phone call from both of her sisters and her mother for the last 3 days. Jonathan is the only one she usually speaks with frequently. They are constantly asking her questions about the wedding.

She gets the food and makes it out of the bistro, heading down the street. The firm is only a few blocks away so she decides that it would just be faster to walk. She gets to the firm building and nods at the security guard. She makes it to the elevator and hits the button. She absently taps the heel of her shoe against the ground until the elevator dings, signaling its arrival.

She hits the button for the 50th floor, clutching her purse in one hand and the brown bag with food in it in the other. She makes her way through the office, following that familiar path to his office. She spots Juliet at her cubicle and offers her a small wave. She approaches the young woman. She leans against the cubicle.

"Good afternoon," she greets the woman, "How are things here on your first official day?"

The young woman takes a look around and leans towards her. She says, "He's been incredibly difficult today."

"We both knew it was a possibility," she replies. She gives the brunette a sympathetic look. She feels sorry for her because she's still getting used to him. They've only had two weeks to prepare her and Harvey has always been difficult in the workplace without her. She offers the woman a smile. She says, "I'll calm him down a bit. Maybe the rest of the day will go smoothly."

She taps on the edge of the cubicle and turns on her heel to head into his office. She wonders how she made it this far without him noticing her presence. She swings the hand with the bag in it toward him and sets the bag down on his desk. He jumps in his skin, ready to give her a piece of his mind until he seems to comprehend who it is.

She smirks. She says, "Brought you lunch, my love."

"Hey," he says slowly, "How did you sneak in?"

"Guess you were just hard at work so you didn't notice," she says.

She leaves her purse in the chair he has opposite of his desk. She makes her way around his desk. She lifts her arms as she approaches him, prepared to wrap her arms around his neck. He stands up to receive her. She feels him slide his hands around her waist.

"What are you doing here?" He asks. She places a soft kiss against his jaw just below his ear. He pulls back to look at her.

She says, "I had a free few minutes before I had to meet with the next one. So I brought us lunch. Plus, I knew you'd want to see me."

He smiles as he releases her from his grasp. She turns away from him and reaches for the brown bag containing their food. She reaches for his hand then and leads him over to the couch. She sets the bag down on the coffee table and kicks off her heels. She sits in the corner of the couch, gesturing for him to sit in the middle. She waits for him to sit before she reaches for the bag. She pulls his sandwich out and hands it over to him. She proceeds to reach into the bag for her salad.

"How were your meetings?" He asks, opening his sandwich.

"Eh," she hums. She opens the container with her salad and grabs the fork. She stabs a leaf. She says, "They were very concerned about what your wedding would look like."

"I don't really care about the wedding," he replies. He looks mildly confused. She knows he doesn't mean anything by it but she wants him to care about the wedding. He seems to notice because he quickly says, "I care about what my bride wants."

She is extremely comforted by his words. She still wants him to care, but she knows his preferences. Whatever he would want, she already knows. And he trusts her inexplicably.

"I just want to be married to you," she says. She takes a bite of her salad, quickly realizing that she isn't that hungry. She starts pushing the remainder of her salad around the container. She shakes her head and adds, "But I've already let the news of you going off the market get too big."

"Me?" He finally says, sandwich pinched in his hands, "I wouldn't have been much of a catch for anyone else. I mean, you've been my emergency contact for the last decade."

She quirks an eyebrow up on her forehead and bites the inside of her cheek for just a moment. She lets go of her fork and closes the container as much as it will go. She leans forward and sets it on the table before leaning back. She turns, lifting her legs to spread across his lap.

"I don't think anyone else sees it that way," she replies. He drops the sandwich onto the paper wrap and wipes his hands off with the napkin. He turns, angling his body towards hers, hands flattening against her legs. She sighs. She says, "I just have to face it. This is Harvey Specter's wedding and I'm just a prop."

"Don't be like that," he says, "You're Donna Paulsen. You've never accepted anything you didn't want to. It's one of the things I love about you."

"You love that I don't take your shit like everyone else," she counters.

"That, but also that you know exactly what you want and you go for it. You can tell these people that I get the lucky honor of becoming your husband, not the other way around," he says. His fingers press into her calf but continue to slide up to the back of her thigh. Her gaze narrows warningly. He grins and says, "You're the most amazing person I've ever met. And if you can win me over, you can win over anyone."

"Oh please," she hums, "You were easy to impress."

"Then anyone else should be a cakewalk," he replies.

* * *

Her talk with her future husband is helpful, to say the least. She goes into the next meeting with a potential wedding planner prepared to not take any bullshit. This is her wedding. It's her only wedding and she wants it to be perfect.

As much as she pretends she didn't, she had dreams about how her perfect wedding would go. She had envisioned the perfect centerpiece, the perfect dress, the color schemes and, at times, she had even pictures the correct groom. She's been to a lot of weddings so she knows what she doesn't want. She never had a particular venue in mind, or a particular guest list. She maybe never even had a particular color scheme.

Donna goes into the wedding planner's office dead set on figuring out as many gory details about this woman's vision. She doesn't even know where to start. Here she is, acting like planning this wedding is their privilege when she's beginning to realize she needs a guide. She was practically Rachel's wedding planner, but at least Rachel had some idea of what she wanted.

She strolls into Kate Edmonds' office with poise and grace. She clutches her tan purse in her left hand, curls her red locks with her right hand. Her blue dress splashes against the white walls as the wedding planner's office becomes clearer to her.

"Miss Paulsen," she greets, standing to her feet, "I'm Kate Edmonds. Pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well," she murmurs.

"Please, have a seat," Kate says, gesturing to an empty chair on the other side of the desk. The chair is a cream color, pulled straight from a living room. It's extremely comfortable. She looks at the woman, ready for her pitch. Kate says, "Thank you for meeting with me today. I know you must have a full schedule. Have you picked a date yet?"

She's mildly taken aback by the question because she hasn't been asked that yet. She nods, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. She says, "March tenth. We don't want to wait any longer than we have to."

"How long have you been engaged?" Kate asks.

"Six months," she replies.

"How well do you know your husband to be?"

Donna laughs. She can't help the laughter peeling out of her at the question. She doesn't think she's been asked that specific question about Harvey for years. She collects herself quickly and smiles an apology.

She says, "I know him better than he knows himself."

"Your fiancé is..." she trails off like she's trying to recall but just slips over it, "Is he going to be joining us?"

"Oh," she says, eyebrows furrowing, "He doesn't care about the wedding too much."

She finds herself pouting immediately at the admission. She hadn't initially known that she had wanted him to care all that much. In fact, she's spent months telling him not to worry about the wedding and she would handle everything. She's sure that if she asked him to care then he would. She just felt like her dealing with this wedding stuff a few days a week would help them prepare for a day when she didn't work for him. She felt that, perhaps, training a secretary would benefit them so she could explore something else if she wanted.

She doesn't really know what she wants for herself anymore outside of marrying him.

"He doesn't have anything particular he cares about? Like music? His suit?"

She stills in her movements like she's having an out of body experience. He's very particular about both of those things. But she knows him well enough that she can get it right without him being active in the decisions.

"He trusts me," she replies.

"What do you want your wedding to be like then?" Kate says, looking at her.

She stares at the woman then. She truthfully doesn't know how to answer the question. It's almost like all of the weddings she's been to she never stopped to think about what she wanted her wedding to be like. It seems like it was all just an idea she'd given up on.

* * *

She goes to the bookstore and buys all of the bridal books and magazines she can find. She might even be there for a few hours browsing. She takes home a rather large sack of reading material and ends up spreading them all out on the coffee table. She looks through the pages for hours but they begin to blur together.

He comes home earlier than she's expecting. The moment he walks in the door she realizes that the pages are only blurring together because her eyes are actually flooded with tears. She blinks and the tears begin to fall.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, rushing to her side, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know the first thing about weddings," she replies. Her throat strains. A lump forms in her throat and she can barely speak at all. She feels the cushion of the couch shift beneath his weight and she's pulled into his vortex.

"You just planned Mike and Rachel's wedding," he replies, "What do you mean you don't know the first thing about weddings?"

She feels his hand slide across her shoulders and come to a stop on her upper arm. She shakes her head quickly and tears fly from her cheeks. She swallows the lump, but she can still feel the strain in her throat. She says, "Rachel knew what she wanted, but I don't have a clue."

He stretches his arm out and pushes the mess around the coffee table just a little bit more. He takes one of the magazines in his hand and pulls it to his lap. He examines the cover with a slightly confused look. She watches him as he flips through the pages, voice seemingly caught in his throat.

He finally says, "What did the wedding planner say?"

"She asked me what you cared about," she replies, voice finally beginning to clear, "Then she asked me what I wanted."

"What did you imagine when you were a kid?" He asks.

She laughs suddenly, like it's the dumbest question. She says, "I thought I was going to marry Jordan Knight and we were going to dance to Duran Duran. I clearly had no taste."

"You don't get to pick the music," he replies decidedly. He tosses the magazine back onto the stack of magazines scattered across the table, but it slides all the way to the other side only to fall to the floor. He says, "I know that you can do this. I have faith in you."

"I might need your help," she says.

"You don't," he says, "But if it's too much, we can just elope."

"No," she says forcefully, "No, we can't do that."

"Okay," he says with a nod, "Then you can do this and it's going to be perfect."


	4. The Maid of Honor Part 1

Thinking about the visual aspect of the wedding keeps her up at night. Not for the first time that week, she looks over at his sleeping form and gets the urge to wake him so he can suffer as she is. For the third time this week, she's staring at him in complete and utter jealousy while he doesn't seem to have a care in the world. She could always put her cold feet on him.

Instead, she releases a quiet sigh and slips out from beneath the blankets. She shivers in the cold air. Her feet hit the carpet and she pads out of the bedroom. She heads directly for the kitchen for solace. Flicking on the kitchen light, she advances to the stove and turns one of the hot plates on. She fills the kettle with water from the sink and places it on the stovetop.

With a hot cup of tea in hand, she makes her way into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. She flicks on the television and flips through the channels until she settles on Bridezilla. There's screeching coming from the flat screen so loudly that she quickly turns it down. But she doesn't get to it quickly enough. It's just a few seconds before she hears his heavy footsteps on the floor as he moves down the hallway.

"Donna?" He grumbles. He comes out of the shadows of the hallway and immediately squints at the light from the television. She watches him lean against the wall and run a hand through his hair. He says, "What are you doing up? Are you okay?"

She sighs loudly. This immediately prompts his eyebrows to furrow in confusion. She shrugs there, leaning forward to set her mug on the table. It lands on a stack of bridal magazines that haven't moved from the table since they arrived, save for one or two.

"Just couldn't sleep," she says. She leans back and tucks her hair behind her ear. She watches him as he pushes off of the wall. He hugs himself and advances further into the room. She tilts her head slightly and adds, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Something is bothering you," he observes. He leans down onto the couch with one hand and slides his palm across her thigh with the other. He glances at the television but his gaze quickly returns to her. "Is this about the wedding?"

"It's not not about the wedding," she admits.

"Will this crap make you feel better?" He asks, gesturing to the television.

"It might," she replies. He nods slowly. He turns on the couch to face the television. She feels his shoulder against hers and he slides down further, propping his feet up on the coffee table. She says, "You have a big day tomorrow. Go back to bed."

"Look, I'm going to be your husband and, whatever you're going through, I'm going to be here for you," he replies.

"That doesn't mean you have to be tired tomorrow," she argues.

"I'm the boss, honey," he says flippantly, "I can go in whenever I want."

She shakes her head and watches as he hugs his gray Henley shirt to his chest. From the few times they stayed at his condo she remembers him trying to sleep in sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. He sleeps in a lot less clothing these days and she can't figure out if it's because he shares a bed with someone else producing body heat or if it's because her apartment is just warmer. She smiles at him, turning to face him and resting her hand on his stomach.

"I don't think you can use your wife as an excuse to be late to work," she replies.

"First of all, I don't have to explain to anyone why I'm late to work," he says, looking at her, "And second, I like the sound of that. Wife."

Her mouth twists into a smirk. He unfolds his arms and she feels his fingers find hers. She says, "You have four months to get used to it."

"I'm already used to it," he insists, "I just want it to be true."

"We've spent more time engaged than we did dating," she muses.

"I just don't want to waste anymore time," he says with a shrug.

Her eyes trail over his adorably messed up hair. She feels him snuggle up to her, his head resting on her shoulder. His grasp on her hand loosens. She hears his breathing slow and watches his chest rise and fall more evenly. She's honestly impressed at how easily he fell back to sleep in such an uncomfortable position.

* * *

She's stirred awake by something, she can't yet comprehend what. She peels her eyes open at the room is dark. She blinks a few times before her brain pieces together where she is. She shivers, realizing how cold the room is. She makes out his shape in front of her.

Her eyes trace his smile. She remembers that she gets to wake up to that face every day for the rest of her life. She sits up, leaning against the arm of the leather couch. She feels his fingers slip below her calves. He lifts her legs off of the couch and slides in beneath her legs. He sets them back down on his lap, his fingers immediately going to the hem of her dress and tugging the material closer to her knees.

"How long have you been here?" He asks.

She glances at the window over her shoulder. She turns back to him and stifles a yawn. She says, "Before the sun went down. Where've you been?"

"Jessica's office," he replies, "She's coming back on Monday. She wanted an overview since she left which turned into the last two hours."

"You told her I'm going to be working less for the next couple of months, I take it," she replies.

"About that," he starts. A sigh tumbles out of his mouth and she knows that he isn't necessarily happy about whatever he's going to say next. Her face automatically contorts sympathetically. He says, "She isn't against it, but she does think it would be best to make Juliet full time instead of just part time."

"Did she tell you to fire me? Did you tell her you can't do that?"

"Nothing like that," he replies. He chuckles softly in his throat and shakes his head. She feels his thumb sweep over her skin just above her knee. He says, "She won't have a secretary so she kind of wants us to share Juliet in the interim."

"Ooooh," she hums, "I know how you feel about sharing."

"You," he says, "I don't like sharing you. Anyway, I explained to her that you won't even be here most of next week because you have to find a wedding planner."

"Well," she says. She tucks her hair behind her ear. They didn't come in until 10 and she had to go across town to look at a venue around 4. She didn't particularly like the place. It didn't seem big enough. "It's crunch time. We have to get as much booked as possible before the holidays."

"You need to get some sleep," he replies, "We can't have anymore nights like last night."

"I don't like it any more than you," she says.

"You were sleeping on my couch," he says, voice flat, "And we have dinner reservations with Mike and Rachel tonight. We haven't even seen them outside of this office since they got back."

"I will make it through dinner just fine," she reassures.

* * *

"And then Rachel pushes me out into the middle of the dance circle and I just stand there," Mike says.

"I panicked," Rachel admits, "I didn't know what to do."

"Not that," Mike replies.

They laugh in unison then. She watches their giggles linger, relishing in the way their happiness just radiates off of them. When they got engaged, it was bad timing for her. She really had given up hope that she could ever be as happy as them. Just then, she feels Harvey's hand on her thigh, fingers tucking between her two legs. She squeezes her thighs together like a warning as she realizes she was wrong to think she would never be as happy as them.

She looks to her left at her fiancé, a smile sliding across her mouth. He shifts his gaze to her then like he feels her eyes on him. His tie is loosened, but not enough for the normal human gaze to notice. It's loosened just enough that he looks boyish to her. She feels his thumb sweep over her thigh just below the hem of her dress.

She sees the waitress making her way to the table with the bottle of wine and four glasses. She perks up a bit, leaning back in her chair and lifting her leg to cross one over the other. She pinches his hand between her thighs. He quirks an eyebrow at her, lips pursing and eyebrows furrowing.

"So, Donna," Rachel says, not noticing the waitress with the wine coming up behind her. Donna watches her friend become taken by surprise as an empty wine glass is set down in front of her. Rachel leans back in her seat as they are all poured wine and it's left on the table. Once the waitress clears, Rachel smiles and continues. She says, "Have you had any luck with the wedding planning?"

Donna can see Harvey immediately cringe out of the corner of her eye. She covers his wrist with her hand and presses the pads of her fingers against his pulse. His heart beats beneath her fingertips and she pushes her hand further up his arm.

"Actually," Harvey says before she can respond, "We've been having a hell of a time with that. We fell asleep on the couch watching that Bridezilla show last night hoping to get some insight about weddings."

She practically burns a hole into his skull for throwing her under the bus like that. She does appreciate the way he takes the fall a little bit too, but both Mike and Rachel are privy to the fact that she's working less to plan the wedding. And, honestly, only she truly knows that this wedding is a big deal on many different levels. It has to be the event of the season.

"You planned our wedding," Rachel reminds her.

"Organized," she corrects, "I didn't have to make any decisions for your wedding. Besides, no offense to Mike, but he was never named New York's most eligible bachelor."

"Isn't that just the male version of a slut?" Rachel muses.

"Yeah, but when men do it they get glorified," Rachel replies.

"True," she absently agrees.

"Hey," Harvey whines, "You're no saint."

"This isn't about me, honey," she replies; she turns her attention back to Rachel, "I had to do something to make him jealous."

Rachel smirks as she reaches for her glass of wine. She nods in agreement right before taking a drink. Donna laughs. She really has missed her time with Rachel, the way they encourage one another to be strong and sassy. She sucks in a deep breath and makes an executive decision on the spot.

"Rachel," she hums, "Do you want to be my maid of honor?"

"I thought you would never ask," Rachel says, swallowing her drink. A bit of wine dribbles onto her chin and, embarrassed, she lifts her napkin to wipe it away. That's one weight lifted off of Donna's shoulders.

Harvey retracts his hand from her thigh and she misses his touch. It's then that she realizes the week has been incredibly emotionally demanding. They haven't even talked about anything other than the wedding. They talk about everything. A sadness takes over her. Harvey seems to notice because he reaches over and lightly touches her shoulder.

"But," Donna starts, "I don't want to talk about the wedding anymore."

She nearly drinks her entire glass of wine in one go.

* * *

She's tired and a little tipsy when they exit the taxi. She holds tightly onto his hand like she needs him to stand upright, but she really isn't having any trouble with her balance. She wants to be close to him. She realized over the course of dinner that they haven't even had sex since Saturday. Which isn't long, but it's the longest they've gone without sex since they declared their love for one another.

He leads her to their apartment building, the one she's lived in and loved for over a decade. Looking at the building, she knows she'll have to leave it soon. She will have to say goodbye to this small, one bedroom apartment that she's called home. The apartment she has brought back a number of men she doesn't care to tell her future husband. The apartment that they've stayed up countless nights laughing together and falling in love all over again.

He encourages her to pass him so she can enter the building first. She feels his hand on her back, moving with her every step that she takes. As she approaches the first step to the stairs, she feels his fingertips slide down her backside. She stops halfway up the staircase. He comes to a stop right behind her, hand still cupping her ass, and he turns his head to look at her.

She closes the space between them and kisses him softly. He pushes his hand around her waist and holds her to him. She lifts her right hand to his jaw and lets her touch linger there for a few moments. He pulls back and offers her a smirk. Her fingers drop from his face and she tugs at the lapel of his jacket. She continues up the stairs, stepping out of his embrace, and only feels his hand on her back again when they reach the door.

He unlocks the front door and guides her in, shutting and locking the door behind them. She leaves her purse on a chair in the living room on her way to the bedroom. She can hear him a few steps behind her. She lifts her hair, the pads of his fingers pressing against the base of her neck. He unzips her dress to the middle of her back. He draws his finger back up her spine, slowly pushing both hands beneath the material of the dress.

She shivers as her dress falls to the floor and pools at her feet. She feels his warm lips press against her back, his hands hooking around her hips. He takes a step forward and she feels his chest press against her back. She feels his hands move to her stomach, fingers spreading across her skin. She leans back against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Let's get some sleep tonight," he mutters.

She nods slowly, already falling asleep in his arms. She turns then, pressing her hands against his chest to lean in to kiss his cheek. She kicks off her heels and becomes significantly shorter. She steps around him and changes for bed. By the time she finally crawls in, he's already laying there. She slides up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist.


End file.
